Stuffed Unicorns and Walls of Moose
by Kvetching Canoodle
Summary: Somehow, Meg joins Cas in worming her way into the Winchesters' lives. - Canon AU after Goodbye Strangers. Destiel, one-sided Megstiel, almost Sam/Meg.


So, via Tumblr, this site, and Ao3, I've noticed this trend where Meg somehow regains her soul by working with Sam to get Dean and Cas back from Purgatory. I've honestly never seen a spread headcanon so specific before, but apparently I've jumped on it because this idea didn't leave me alone.

Also, there's this story called "What Defines Humanity" by ShoshannaRose on Ao3 that uses Rachel Miner's headcanon that as Azazel's daughter, she was actually a damned half-angel. Apparently I'm not the only person in the world who likes Jewish Mythology, and I'm using a similar concept. Which means there's a slight AU to season eight where Dean and Sam's relationship hasn't up and died.

Just saying it advance because this picks up after "Goodbye Stranger" as if Meg had lived and has joined the boys (and Cas on occasion) in their Bat Cave since she'd be able to get past the wards now that she has a soul and all.

Warning: total OOC at one point and minor at others just by nature of the story. I tried to keep her as close as I could while taking the situation into account.

Pairings: Destiel, one-sided Megstiel, and almost Sam/Meg.

Yeah, I've had really, really bad past few days.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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"Stuffed Unicorns and Walls of Moose"

It's never really a spoken decision; Meg needs safety and the bunker is the best place to provide it.

Sam's relieved, really, that they never had to talk about it. Dean had a hard time believing the whole demons-can-get-their-souls-back thing and by the time he'd gotten out, Meg was gone and he was stuck searching for two people at once. Then three, because Kevin Tran went _poof _for a while too. So, honestly, he thinks the lack of argument is a good sign. Maybe seeing her all beat up and bloody was enough to convince his brother that this hadn't been another Ruby-like sort of Stockholm Syndrome situation.

After three days of her sleeping off half a year of torture and extended adrenaline rush, she's finally well enough to move around, which is basically the first real break they've had in a while. Getting her back and finally coming clean to Dean has made everything a little more bearable at the moment. Well, excluding the fact that his chest feels like it's on fire.

"Your brother's a better cook than you," she tells him from the other side of the table, eating the egg sandwich Dean made.

He says, "Is that a compliment I hear?" and Sam just wants to focus on translating Enochian.

"Don't let it get to your head, princess."

A spout of bickering erupts, making him wish that Cas was here. He knows the angel just up and disappeared on them but it's been three days and none of them are taking it very well. Dean because, well, his brother has yet to admit he's madly in love with the guy and Meg because she _has _admitted it. The words swim in front of him, making it difficult to read. He keeps trying to tell himself that he's okay, but he's deteriorating fast. And the fact that more than just his brother is now concerned about his well-being is a strange little thing to adjust to.

Around midnight, after the argument ended and Dean forced Meg into washing the dishes, he drifts off, head cradled in his arms over the book. Almost immediately there's a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He blinks, gathering his barrings and looks up to find his brother standing over him. He says, "You've got a real bed. Go use it for once - and no bringing the book."

The sink's still running in the kitchen, so he couldn't have been out more than five minutes. "Okay," he says as he shuts the book and stands. Except for being tired, he feels relatively fine right now. "You should go to bed too."

"Nah, I had coffee like two hours ago," he says and oh yeah, that was Sam's idea because he personally wanted to stay awake and finish. Lately he's been flopping back and forth between exhaustion and insomnia, which is awful. Nothing causes nightmares and flashbacks quite like a messed up sleeping schedule. "I'm completely wired."

He rubs his eyes. "Okay," he repeats and shuffles off to the bathroom to clean up. He hasn't felt this tired in a long time.

.

Meg laughs. "You've got to kidding me," she says, but pulls the stuffed animal out of the bag anyway. "Seriously?"

With a shrug, he answers, "Consider it a congratulation-on-not-dying house warming present."

He doesn't know what possessed him to get the stupid thing, but he'd been in Target looking for sheets that fit Dean's bed a little better and don't come off repeatedly on one corner. The unicorn had been there, stuffed on a shelf between a kangaroo and hippo and really, he just couldn't resist. "You're a dick," she tells him. "It isn't funny."

Despite what she says, she slips it on her end table anyway. Dean's in his room, talking to Cas who apparently got another cell phone to communicate, and Meg's understandably in a bad mood. Finally, they're out and she's immediately forced to face oodles of unresolved sexual tension when her entire original (and fervently denied) purpose was to get the angel out because "someone needed to save poor Clarence from all the things that go bump in the night."

"Yeah it is," he says. "Just a little."

She shakes her head, more in exasperation than anything else. The two of them are used to each other and had been since they first started working together. Sure, the reason was because she lived in his head for a week and that's pretty awkward but they managed after a while. "You know, that rainbows and puppies all around comment wasn't supposed to be literal," she says, presumably referring to the multicolored horn. He doesn't even know what comment she's talking about, either, but he barely remembers the time they worked together when he went without a soul, so maybe it was back then. God, that feels so long ago and it was barely over a year and a half.

"I actually got us all sheets too," he says. "They're in the wash - which, by the way, we actually have now. No more laundry mats."

When he'd gotten her back, she was covered in blood and black goo, so they'd gotten her more clothes. Then teenagers went and stole all her jeans and well, no one has good memories of laundry mats. "So you and Dean have just been here playing house?" she says, quirking a brow. "Kinky."

He rolls his eyes, used to this by now. "Shut up, Meg," he says and it suddenly strikes him that there's a perfectly good bed right behind him and yet the two of them are sitting on the floor. It's carpeted, recently vacuumed. "Or you'll be put on cleaning duty for now on."

"Ooo, I'm quivering from fear, baby."

Since he's leaning against the bed, it isn't much effort to grab her pillow and chuck it at her face. Meg catches it of course, but he's smiling now, feeling better than he has all day.

.

Meg has a lot of flaws, but stupidity isn't one of them; she can see as clearly as he can that whatever's going on between Dean and Cas is evolving quickly. How upset she is immediately gets channeled is crankiness and acting snippy towards the two lovebirds. He feels a little bad, to be honest, but there isn't much he can do about it but try to distract her. Which gets considerably harder as time goes on because Dean's still his brother, Cas still his friend, and coughing up blood is getting more frequent.

Like right now, for example, directly after they finish a fight with a particularly ambitious shapeshifter. He'd gotten knocked pretty hard, back slamming against the ground and he's having trouble simply standing up. Being half-stuck in a flashback of getting pinned down in Hell isn't making this any easier.

As he tries to help him, Dean says, "C'mon, Sammy, can't have you checking out on me now," and his voice is enough to snap him back to reality. "Hey, eyes up here."

"I know," he says, taking a deep breath and instantly regretting it, twisting to spit up some blood. "Fuck."

Then there are two fingers on his forehead, Cas healing him to the best of his ability. He can't take away the illness but he can remove individual reactions. "You should be better for now," he says.

"Thanks," he says and his brother pulls him up, resulting in him nearly whacking Meg with his elbow. "Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah," she says, "whatever. How about you get yourself to the car?"

Now that he doesn't need to be supported, Dean and Cas are standing very, very close together, his brother somehow managing to still hover at the same time. Meg's scowling, not even bothering to hide how annoyed she is and maybe it should freak him out that an ex-demon is probably the most honest out of all of them, but he can't find it in him. Not right now.

He slips into the passenger seat and Meg gets into the back because that's just the order of things. Outside Dean and Cas talk before the angel flutters off to wherever because he hates cars. And though Sam doesn't like to think about it, he remembers that half a day with Lucifer stuck inside him and the wings on his back. If he was Cas, he'd hate this form of travel, too.

Then Dean's back, smile sticking to the corner of his mouth and Sam's just enjoying the fact that he can breathe at the moment. "So, I told Cas if he wasn't riding with us, he had to get us food," he says, turning the key in the engine. "Said he'll go to Greece and meet up with us."

"Wait," Meg says from the back, "so, real food for the first time in two weeks?"

He pulls off back onto the quiet New York road. "Hell, yeah," he answers and Sam leans his head against the window, watching the scenery go rushing by.

.

The bunker doesn't have a TV, so a while ago he and Dean went out and bought one with Kyle Miller's credit card. When that original transaction was made, Sam hadn't ever expected to end up sitting around it at Christmas time, room decked out in lights because that's what Dean wanted, and finally showing Cas and Meg _Lord of the Rings _because apparently he and his brother were the only two who'd seen it. Sam makes everyone popcorn and eggnog (neither of which Cas has any of) and settles in, enjoying the night off for once.

Cas asks questions through pretty much the entire thing because he doesn't get it and he and Dean trying to explain things at the same time probably isn't helping but it doesn't matter. The two of them can pretty much recite this movie start to finish by this point and Meg just sort of watches, evidently amused that there's a hobbit named Sam, too. All this reminds him of Stanford and Jess' crusade to introduce him to as many movies as she could, but this time he doesn't feel obligated to sit and watch; he's with his brother and two friends and a movie his family went to the midnight premier of because Dean was sick and there was nothing better to do.

Though, to be honest, he thinks he likes this more.

As usual, he and Dean don't do the whole gift thing because simply being here _alive _and _together _is enough and he expects the others to be the same. So it's understandably surprisingly later when he suddenly gets a mass of newspaper in his face. He catches it of course and lowers, finding Meg leaning against the doorway of his room and smirking.

Confused, he says, "You got me a Christmas present?"

"Oh, that's not a present," she answers as he tears open the wrapping. "That's payback."

Once he has the actual gift in his hand, it actually takes a moment to process it. Then he bursts out laughing and Meg's smirk is twitching towards a smiling. "You're a bitch," he says, holding the stuffed moose at arm's length. It stares back at him, googly eyes almost completely hidden by fake fur.

"Hey, you're the one who bought me the unicorn," she says and moves from his door. "Well, I'm off to get real-people sleep, so later, princess."

"G'night to you too there, Leia," he calls after her, his words immediately followed by barely chocked back laughter.

All things considered, all of this could be much worse.

.

As returning to Heaven is essentially a death sentence for Cas, he hangs around enough that he's practically a permanent reference. At some point Dean decides he needs something to occupy himself with, he buys one of those cheap CVS camera. Meg shows him how to use it, sliding in there before his brother can and really, the only way this could be worse is if he randomly developed feelings for the angel too. Thankfully he hasn't and spends his time hanging back, waiting to get in the way if the bloodshed starts.

Goddamn love triangles.

"Hey, Sam!"

He looks up, confused, only to have a flash go off in his face. "_Dean!_" he says, reminiscent of when he was five because he really, really, _really _hates having his picture taken. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

He smiles and shakes his head, going back to the book. The flash goes off again followed by the sound of the camera switching hands. Then Meg says, "I really have to die my hair back," and sometimes he forgets that she gives a shit about stuff like that. Which makes sense, he supposes. She only picks vessels she likes the look of and ever since "Little Miss Actress" disappeared and left the body to her, she's somehow gotten even more vain.

Cas tells her, "I can change it back if it is that important to you."

"And you haven't said anything?"

"I was aware that was what you wanted."

Somewhere off to the side, the two of them continue their conversation but Dean slides into the seat next to him, apparently giving Meg a free pass for once. "How're you feeling?" he asks because that's his number one question lately.

And it isn't entirely a lie when he says, "Better than yesterday."

His brother's hand finds its way to his forehead, pushing back his hair. "Your fever's gone," he tells him and slides over a glass of water. Dean hasn't motherhenned this much in years. Then again, death for him tends to be pretty quick, not long and drawn out like this time.

But this time he isn't going to to die.

Because he promised Dean he wouldn't.

.

"Remember the first thing you ever said it me?"

Dean and Cas are flirting big time to a degree that there's no way the angel doesn't know what's going on. Meg's angry because she doesn't do "upset" very well and all he really wants is to distract her. And apparently it works because she tears her eyes away from the kitchen door and over to him. "What?" she says. "Why does that matter?"

With a shrug, he answers, "It doesn't. Sometimes it's just weird to think we've known each other for eight years."

"And spent most of our time trying to kill each other."

Ever since he got brought back into the family business, the list of people he could say that about has dwindled down to two people: Dean, and her. The first time they met feels like ago, back when she was in Meg Masters' body with her short cropped hair and college student clothes. _Living our own lives_. Of everyone who'd ever bullshitted him in his life, she owned up to it the quickest.

After a moment, she says, "'You scared the Hell out of me.'"

"What?"

"The first thing I said. 'You scared the Hell out of me.'" Looking back, that really sums up his entire life, doesn't it? "Oh, and the comment later about that guy being all hands? That was actually true."

He smiles. "You mean shady van guy? What did you to him?"

"Killed him," she answers, all nonchalant because she'd been that way for the better part of nearly two thousand years. Suddenly it comes back to him what she said at that table where they shared the fries, about having to be smart but not smart enough to scare away a husband, and wonders if that was true, originally. "And I was right," she adds. "You really are some sort of freak."

Inside the kitchen his brother laughs, followed by Cas saying something quiet. Despite this, Meg's attention is focused entirely on him. It feels kind of nice, really.

.

A week after Dean brings up again about how he should have more to his room than a neatly made bed, a dresser, and a lamp, he walks in to find pictures taped up on the wall above his bed. About twenty of them, all cut out from magazines or printed from a computer. Every single one of them is a moose.

"Meg!"

For a moment there's nothing. Then his brother enters, looking mildly confused and facing the opposite direction of the little nature collage that can only be from her. "It was her turn to do the food shopping," Dean says. "What'd she do?"

He bites the inside of his cheek and just points. Immediately upon seeing his new decorations, his brother breaks out laughing because he's evil and thinks that this is funny. "I'm sorry, Sam," he says through dying laughter, "but that's hilarious. Is this the latest form in ex-demon flirting?"

"Flirting?" he repeats, annoyance momentarily dispelled. "Wait - what?"

Again, Dean laughs and claps him on the shoulder. "C'mon, Sammy, I made lunch. You can de-cootie-ify your room later."

He rolls his eyes and follows, trying to ignore the sneaking thought that it's Cas she flirts with, not him.

.

Meg isn't clueless to modern technology. It's not something he's ever really had to think about before after having her in his head and all, but even after a year's worth of help, she's only moderately okay with a computer. So he feels perfectly okay when he bypasses her lock screen, opens up her search engine, and proceeds to fill the screen with images of unicorns, rainbows, and puppies. Through a short trip into YouTube, he even finds a video of some kid's movie with a little girl crying over a stuffed unicorn that got disintegrated.

Then he goes back to the main room, surrounded by books, and waits.

"SAM!"

Oh, this is _so _much better than a moose collage.

.

He can imagine the taunt, not even half a year ago: _you were knocked out by an old man! _Instead he gets nothing from neither Dean nor Meg. When all is said and done, the two of them leave his brother back in the house to talk to Krissy because he's the one who's good at the parental things. Sam knows he would make a terrible dad, and that's why he needs him to live - he might be able to pull of "normal" one day, but it's Dean who has a chance at "happy." Complimentary apple pie included.

"So what'd he knock you out with?" Meg asks, crossing her arms and leaning back against the Impala with him. Her hair's back to brown now like she wanted, wavy and windblown. The first thing she made him do after they found out salt stopped affecting her was drive to Florida and by a bathing suit.

"Gun, I think," he answers. "I was looking for the vamp and he came up behind me. Next thing I knew, I was tied to a chair."

The door to the house is partially open and though he can hear voices, he can't make out the words. "That guy was a dick," she says, which he finds funny because the whole used-to-be-a-demon thing. "And how did the two of you not go off the wall over the comment about all those hunters? Have my favorite little boys' brains finally caught up with their bodies?"

Honestly, he doesn't know how he hadn't snapped - or how Dean hadn't, for that matter. Getting anything negative said about himself he's okay with since nine out of ten times he actually deserves it, but insulting Bobby is a whole different level. "I don't know about Dean," he says, "but honestly? I'm just too tired."

It slips out before he even realizes it's true. But it _is _because he was exhausted yesterday, though today he feels all right. Meg looks a little started but what else did he expect? He usually keeps stuff like this to himself.

Then his brother's back and it's time to go back home.

.

Dean doesn't need to say it for Sam to know when it happens. All he needs is to take one look at the way the two are sitting together and he knows.

"It's okay with me," he says. "Just so you know."

Though his brother frowns, it's halfhearted. "We're not having a 'talk about our feelings' moment, got it?" he says.

He feels bad today, the worst he has in a while, but he manages to smile for his sake. "I know," he tells him. "Just wanted to get it out there that I'm okay with whatever you do."

Now Dean drinks coffee at home more often than beer or whiskey, which Sam sees as a relief. His brother takes a sip of said coffee, obviously stalling. "Well, this is officially awkward," he says. "Go back to geeking out over there before I make you, Sammy."

He rolls his eyes and pushes himself off the counter. "Don't forget to use protection," he gets out quickly before shooting out of the kitchen to avoid his brother's rage.

.

Regardless of what Sam thinks of his brother's drinking habits, the truth is that he's still a Winchester and he deals with things the traditional Winchester way. In this case, he drags Meg out to a bar two states over because Cas told her, which was probably the worst possible way for her to find out.

They grab an actual booth because the place they picked is nicer than usual and doubles as a restaurant. This general arrangement was actually an accident, but it's close to the gas station and they were running low. Not long after their drinks come, she says, "Want to know something about being a demon, Sam?"

Her fingers dance around her glass, nails clinking against it irregularly. "Sure," he says, even though he doesn't really.

"You see, demons have a pretty one-track mind," she explains. "It isn't all that complicated - they're the bad guys, humans are traditionally the good guys they like to kill. And that's the thing. Humanity's all burned away, so killing and wrecking havoc is for shits and giggles and all they really do is hope no hunter exorcises them because - well, you know Hell. Hell's Hell, even for demons." She takes a sip of her beer. In the eight years he's know her, she's never been this straight forward and that's including all those months they spent together searching for Cas and Dean. "Basically, what I'm trying to say is that 'feelings' don't get involved. There's anger and sadism, but stupid school girl crushes on angels who wear trench coats and are gay for the guy who's spent years trying to kill you isn't typically on the menu, you know?"

For a moment, he actually can't think of what to say because he's been possessed - and by her, specifically. He doesn't like to think about it, but the truth is that they get each other in a way he doesn't get anyone other than Dean (actually, less so, but that's not the point). Even what that whole reversed Falling thing happened, enough hasn't changed that he still _gets _her, so all of this? He hates it, but he remembers. But her being so forward? That's a new one. He can't remember misery.

Eventually, he gets out, "Remember Jessica?" and she nods before staring back down into the gold-brown of her beer. "Well, before her I think I'd liked maybe one girl and that was when I was just a kid. Then came my sophomore year and I met Jess - manipulated, I found out later, but that's not for now - and suddenly it felt like something exploded. At first she didn't like me back, some loser pre-law major who put too much salt in his food and couldn't talk about his family. She had a boyfriend, some guy named John and when they broke up, I asked her out. She turned me down, but we had the same group of friends. And one day I caught this kid I considered a pretty good friend making out with her. We ended up together about seven months later, but trust me, I remember what it's like."

She stays focused on her beer and honestly, he doesn't know what where that all come from. Eight years later and he has trouble even hearing her name. "You ruined me, for the record," she tells him suddenly, voice coming out uncharacteristically quiet. "That one track mind started to up and die after I got inside that grapefruit of yours. I didn't really get 'cause' until that point. Then you figured out that mess with Crowley and Dean killed that fucker torturing me and later that train wreck of taking care of Castiel while he was completely batshit. You were going after those Leviathan whatever and I was fucking ready to _die _for you guys and it wasn't even to kill Crowley. I don't think it was much of a leap to this...thing after that."

When he found Meg, she was stuck in a devil's trap getting knocked around by a couple of demons who stood outside the line. It hadn't been pretty. His lips flicked up into half a smile.

"If it makes you feel any better," he says, "just remember I'm the idiot who started the Apocalypse."

They drink and things get better after that.

.

Four days later after an incredibly uncomfortable conversation with Dean in the aftermath of what was actually a fun, simple salt'n'burn case, he rummages in his old stuff until he finds the one picture he has of her that wasn't one of the multiple taken by Cas, wrapped up in one of his warmer sweaters because they'd forgotten to get her a winter coat, scowling. Afterwards he scribbles a terribly drawn unicorn on the back. He doesn't write anything, just leaves it on her pillow while she's in the shower.

She doesn't mention it.

Then, three days after, he finds a picture either stolen from or given to her by Dean, a better drawn moose on the opposite side. There's no note. It's stuck where her collage had been weeks earlier.

They don't talk about this, either.

.

"Are we on fucking repeat or something?"

Dean looks over at him, zero confusion on his face. Meg's out and Cas went on his merry way two days ago. "Apparently," he answer, and stabs one of the pancakes Sam made with a fork. "Fucking angels and demons, man. I thought we'd be over this by now."

He leans back, head head hitting against the wall and he doesn't care. Today's another bad one and thankfully they're still few and far between. Telling Dean would be the smart thing to do and he does, but tries to downplay it. He always has had an astronomical ten. "Gates of Hell will be closed soon," he says. "If we gank that Naomi bitch, maybe it'll calm down."

Even though his chest is burning and his life's falling apart for what feels like the millionth time, he's glad to just be sitting here, he and his brother literally pressed side by side. Codependency, angels and psychiatrists have said. They've gone to Hell and back for each other, ended and saved the world, gone crazy and ended up in Purgatory, pushed around by either side their entire lives but here they are, pulling a chick flick moment in a bunker that might've been lost forever if it weren't for a time traveling grandfather. Despite how often he's fucked up, he loves his family, blood related or not, but Dean's number one. It doesn't matter what happens, but Dean will always be his number one.

And even if he doesn't want this to be a suicide mission, he's starting to think it will be. Dean, Meg, Cas - the idea of leaving them is killing him just as fast as the disease. He thinks of the voicemail and that amulet; of night spent on the hood of the Impala, staring at the stars; of Cas calling him an abomination and later answering him when he called that one last time; of moose and unicorns and black smoke leaving his body.

Every person he's ever loved has died. Meg's the last one who's lived consistently and there's a persistent question in his head of how long that'll last. He sees a light at the end of the tunnel, a family in this bunker of weapons and knowledge.

But he's okay, if he dies again. And if he doesn't come back, that's okay too.

.

When Meg slips into his bed, all he does is raise the blankets, no questions asked. Her room's closest to Dean's which by default means closest to Cas, too. It's dark, but her hair turns into an added layer, spread all over the one pillow he has and tickling his neck. For the first time he realizes that's she's smaller than any girl he's ever been with. Rather than turn his back, he throws her arm over her shoulder. She doesn't move closer, but he doesn't move away, either.

As he beings to drift off again, she says, "Hey, Sam?" in a sleepy voice and over-exhaustion is almost as bad as being drunk.

"Yeah?" he asks, eyes blinking open. Hers are nearly shut.

"You aren't allowed to die anymore," she answers. "No more Sherlock Holmes acts."

He doesn't know how to take it, so he settles for pulling her closer against her will, tucking her underneath his chin. "I won't," he tells her, but she's already asleep. He follows her example a few moments later.

Maybe she won't noticed that he hadn't made an actual promise.

.

I know it's weird, but review? I'm a college student who needs love.


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